A Good Mess

I found some awesome embroidery patterns online today, so I pulled out my stash of floss, and this is what I found. Super. I used to like those little cards you see on the right there, but a few months ago, I bought a buttload of DMC long spools, which are so much easier to use. You just take the paper off, find the middle, and ease them on to the brackets. After work today, I sat around and turned this into:








This:
Nice, isn't it? I'm all OCD, and I love it when things are organized by color. Speaking of embroidery, I came across some really good blogs today, and here, without further ado, are my Favorite Blogs of the Day:

Feeling Stitchy
Florecita
What Not to Crochet

That What Not to Crochet blog is HILARIOUS. I was literally crying at work. The projects that she features are funny, but the beauty of the blog is the commentary. It's absolutely priceless. Anyone who can come up with the post title, "Another Case of Poncho-Derived Child Abuse" has my undying devotion. Whoever that woman is, she is an absolute scream.


Screaming is a good segue to the evening I experienced at the driving range. Let me set this up for you. I am spatially impaired. I have severe difficulty with depth perception, directions, hand eye coordination, etc. Ergo, golf is about the hardest thing I could possibly endeavor to learn, besides maybe astrophysics. As I've said before, Rick is excellent at everything, so of course, he is an excellent golfer. We went to the range today, I thought we'd just hit some balls and leave, but he started to help me, which is what I need. So he's helping me, and I just generally give a crappy performance. I have a few of good shots, and he's very supportive. We head over to the chipping green, which is where a difficult obstacle becomes virtually impossible. I can't grasp the concept of not bending my wrists. What? Grip below the shaft? Bend my elbow? Don't bend my wrists? Hands in front of the ball? What? This is completely different than just hitting the ball like normal, and I grow frustrated quickly. God bless Rick, he is there, pushing me to learn, helping me instead of going off and having fun practicing by himself, and to make a long, painful story short, I do not get the hang of it. After I head back to my apartment, tears begin to pour without me realizing it. I'm not angry or pouting that I'm not good at golf, for Pete's sake, I know I suck at it. I expect to suck. I think I just got very overwhelmed at trying to learn too much at once. I need to get the basics down, which means two things:

1. I will learn to hit consistently with every club in my bag.
2. I will not go anywhere NEAR the chipping green for a very long time.

And to add insult to injury, I got a blister on my left ring finger. Gravy. When I talked to Rick later, he thanked me for being patient with him.

Um no, thank you for being patient with me.

SIGH. Goodnight, lovelies. Does anyone even read this blog?